


like a virgin

by mahwaha



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, Oh baby don't hurt me, no more, what is love?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 18:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6578227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahwaha/pseuds/mahwaha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People slap his back at the breakfast table while the crowd around Octavian laughs, but Octavian stares at him for every abysmal second of that song - until the last lingering note before the Howler inspires Leo’s envy; it incinerates into nothing, finished.</p><p>Yeah, he wishes he could pull that parlor trick, too.</p><p>Instead, he’s given two weeks of detention and people sniggering whenever they lay eyes on him. It wouldn’t be so bad if they were laughing at Octavian’s face, but nooo, suddenly every prissy wizard in the whole place knows Madonna. Figures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a virgin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anemicloser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemicloser/gifts).



> I love you, Kristin. I'm only sorry that it took me so long to deliver that love in the form of shitty nerds treating each other in a shitty manner. I hope you enjoy, and as always, thank you Mike for your priceless help with the writing process!

“Dude.” Leo elbows Jason’s arm, sending soup slopping across the tablecloth. He misses Jason’s frown from the sheer fact that he isn’t looking - the constipated scarecrow at the Slytherin table had his full attention since Leo first noticed the guy. Anyone who puts _that_ much effort into a screwed-up glare deserves _some_ commentary, especially when that glare’s been boring holes into Golden Boy’s head for the past few minutes. “Did you pee in his Pepperup or something?”

“What? Leo.” Jason wields his name like a mom might: chastising, outlined in exasperation. And even though Leo knows he earns the mom voice nine times out of ten, his attention cuts to Jason while his hand covers his heart from another mortal wound.

“I’m serious. You’re not even looking, _look_.” This time, when Leo prods out with his elbow Jason drops his spoon into his bowl and relents. Scarecrow’s glare whips acid at Jason from across not one, but _two_ tables; as soon as Jason catches it, Leo cracks a grin that splits wider when all of that ‘I seriously have to shit’ intensity needles _him_ , next. He turns the full force of his grin onto Jason without a second thought, propping his chin up in his hand like he planned to gird his loins for a full gossip session. “Is Miralax just a normal person thing, or are wizards more into like, suppositories?”

Jason elbows him, this time, but a small, irresponsible smile betrays him. “ _You’re_ a wizard. Come on. That’s just Octavian.”

‘Just Octavian’ fumes so hard in his seat that Leo expects to see green, aromatic lines squiggling up off of his body. They’d probably smell like farts mixed with expensive perfume, or maybe a Demulcent Dram. Like trying too hard, for sure. Leo wiggles in his seat and bats his eyelashes Octavian’s way, relishing the grimace Octavian gifts him with before waving full-armed.

Jason reaches for his wrist without looking, but not before Piper waves their way from farther down the Slytherin table. It’s enough to divert Leo’s attention in the moment; when he glances back Octavian’s way after flashing her a smile, there’s no leering Disney villain to catch his fancy.

At least, not until his next Potions class.

* * *

By all means, Piper should be his partner today. _Should_. Whenever the Puffs have Potions with Slytherin, she switches between he and Jason like the Inner Beauty Queen that reflects all of that outer bangingness, no problemo. But yes problemo, because Hedge is a spiteful substitute who leapt into assigning partners as soon as Leo so much as peeked Piper’s way. And, well...as soon as he figured out that yeah, Leo might’ve charmed a few jars of newts eyes to roll whenever Hedge opened his mouth. Or every jar, actually.

Which means instead of chumming it up with his bestie from the snake nestie, Hedge sticks him with tall, gaunt, and constipated - who won’t stop squinting at the back of Jason’s head.

Welp. Time to burst that bubble.

“So what’s it gonna be today?” Cracking his knuckles and shoving up his sleeves - a useless gesture, considering Hogwarts requires only the swoopiest of sleeves for dramatic flair or whatever - Leo tips a smile and his hiked-up brows Octavian’s way. “Giddyup Gunk? Something with skunk eyes? Wizard Hydroxycut?”

When Octavian looks at him - no, ‘ _looks_ ’ doesn’t suit. When Octavian tries with every skinny fiber of his being to _incinerate Leo with his eyes_ , Leo’s smile cocks a little higher. A little more crooked. His face warms, so maybe Octavian’s upgraded from ‘just Octavian’ to ‘wizard blowtorch’ with the sheer force of his hate and revulsion. So, of course, Leo leans in a little closer and smooths his hands over their shared desk space.

“You need the loo before we do this thing?”

“If you’d been _paying attention_ ,” and oh, that scathing expression did translate tonally, “you’d know we’re brewing a Laughing Potion. Now if you’ll shut up - ”

Leo laughs, no potion required. “What, _you’re_ gonna brew it? Fat chance, bro.” He pulls his cauldron closer with an unerring grin, still snickering at the thought.

“Don’t call me ‘bro.’” The already-stern lines of Octavian’s face sharpen as if he could cut Leo with his frown. “And pass me the alihotsy leaves before I give you something to laugh about.”

Joke’s on Octavian; Leo has _plenty_ to laugh about and he hasn’t been partnered for more than five minutes. His eyes crinkle at the edges while he splutters, brows lifting while he drops his chin to stare up at Octavian in disbelief.

“Seriously? _You_?” Leo laughs again and dumps spring water into his cauldron without glancing down once, pausing after to snap on gloves. All the better to snatch up alihotsy leaves for himself - but he leaves plenty of room for Octavian to gather his own, if Octavian’s willing to infringe into Leo’s Cootie Land. “You look like anti-laughter. Like you make clowns and little kids cry. Just take the dive. If you’re nice maybe I’ll share my potion when I’m done.” He _is_ the Potions Whiz Kid. That and the Nintendo Repair Boy to all of his humble normalfolk, but wizarding society clearly values the former over the latter. Their loss.

Beside him, Octavian pulls off purple in the face like he was born to do it. Leo scoots his cauldron farther into the shelter of his arms, eyeing Octavian sidelong while trying to chop his leaves without including a few of his fingers in the process. Even though Leo’s life doesn’t flash before his eyes, he could definitely see Octavian brewing the potion to spite him and then force-feeding it to him so he’d die laughing. He looks like the vindictive type, you know? So it’s really nothing but survival instinct when Leo leans away from Octavian’s reaching arms when he grabs fistfuls of leaves like he’d rather be choking a certain sensible Hufflepuff out.

“You know you have to laugh over the potion, right? Because it’s a laughing potion?” Survival instinct, meet foot-in-mouth. Leo’s eyebrows leap up, matching his smile save for the place where his teeth pinch it still. “I bet you laugh like Mandark. Full-on preteen supervillain cackle. Am I wrong? Huh?”

Octavian breaths in so sharp that Leo expects him to bleed, but if the sound isn’t cutting enough then his glare sure surpasses it. Leo’s grin _and_ his year-round tan go wan.

He leaves Potions with a black eye and purple boils that itch like sin.

But _Octavian_ leaves Potions with spaghetti swinging from his nostrils while he cackles like a B-movie maniac. A maniac that also happens to bray like an ass. Alihotsy leaves. If that’s not music to Leo’s ears then he may as well go deaf.

* * *

One thing’s for sure: Octavian will never stop scowling in his presence ever again. It’d almost be flattering if Leo hadn’t hit virtuoso levels of annoying by his second year, but on the upside Octavian hadn’t glared at Jason _once_ over dinner. Oh, no. _Leo_ had hogged every second of that hateful glaring. Not even sticking spoons to the fading boils on his face curbed the spite.

So it went without saying that Octavian seethed when they met up for detention.

“Valdez.” For a dude made up of toothpicks, Octavian still manages to puff up like an offended flamingo, or a crane - some kind of gangly, awkward bird. Leo suspects the wizard robes. Magical plumage. An evil, Maleficent aura wasn’t out of the equation, though.

Leaning on the shovel Hedge had nearly beaned him with upon arriving, Leo waggles his fingers in a wave. “Doc Ock.”

“Unless you’re about to duke it out like _real_ wizards, shut up and get scooping. I’m not waiting all night for you twigs to finish.” Hedge, bless his Quidditch glory days, brought a Beater’s bat about half as long as his body to supervise.

“You got it, coach.” So Leo digs in, if only to relish Octavian’s narrowing eyes and pursed-up lemon mouth. Dung shoveling. Magnificent. FYI, unicorn poop? No glitter, no rainbows, and no soft-serve ice cream towers. Octavian looks like he’ll break his skinny back when he shoves the tip of his spade into a pile of it, but he catches Leo’s eye for one vindictive second before throwing his prize back.

Across Leo’s shoes. Octavian doesn’t even look back to see if he made it. And man, that’s just _insulting_.

He waits for Hedge to inevitably lose interest, grumbling by the lantern light and flipping through a newspaper before making his move. Shoveling through poop like wizard Dig Dug, Leo carves out a path for the lost cause of his shoes, winding closer and closer to Octavian, who quits smirking to himself as soon as he notices. They both glance to Hedge before the glaring contest switches on.

“Don’t come too close,” Octavian hisses, every inch the snake. “I might mistake you for manure.”

“What, ‘cause I’m brown?” Leo flings his next shovel-full of shit Octavian’s way, but Octavian sees him coming; not only does he hop back to dodge, but he hops right back into one of the roundabout poo trails that Leo had carved out on his warpath. Leo winces through a smile. It’s too satisfied to fool anyone. “Ooh,” he whispers, “sorry dude. I think I thought you were unicorn crap, too.”

“You two got something to say, you can say it to me,” Hedge barks, and there’s thinly-veiled murder in Octavian’s eyes when he turns around, all smiles. _Politician_ smiles. He’s still ankle-deep in unicorn poop.

“Nothing.”

Leo side-eyes Octavian because he’s seen enough horror movies to recognize the patterns. Octavian’ll probably break into the Puff Palace to smother him in his sleep. Coach Hedge glares them both down for a long moment but drops it with a grunt and grumble of his own, waving them off with a, “So shut it and shovel.”

They do. But it doesn’t stop Leo from trying to make Octavian dodge into deeper shit the next time he starts slogging it a little too far.

He leaves detention with shit smeared down the front of his robes, brown handprints slapped onto his arms and shoulders, and a grievous need for a three hour shower to fight off the smell. Mud wrestling would’ve been preferable, but hearing Octavian squawk in rage when Leo smacked his butt with the dirty shovel...that _had_ to be worth it. If not, he’d just have to plot his revenge for the unicorn poop walk of shame.

* * *

“I’m getting revenge for the shitty walk of shame.”

Jason’s still frowning at him like a disappointed mom over breakfast - and all because Octavian _might’ve_ received a gift from someone who _might’ve_ been him from the morning owls. Really, there wasn’t any proof before he’d said something just now. Hearsay wasn’t even valid.

“You’re still not done doing detentions after last week. What’d you send him?” Jason lays down his fork, still topped with a perfectly good piece of Irish bacon. It’s serious. Oh no. “Just...tell me you weren’t charming gadgets again.”

“I wasn’t charming gadgets again,” Leo parrots back, putting on his best good boy face.

From the Slytherin table he hears a ripple of murmurs, and when he gives into temptation to look he can’t help himself; Leo smiles. Octavian’s paling by the second as he rips open his Howler.

That’s about when the metaphorical shit hits the fan, because it only takes an instant to determine three things: his charm work needs polishing, everyone _definitely_ knows he sent the Howler, and this was a mistake. In Leo’s voice, the Howler begins to scream off-key in notes he’s never hit in his entire life.

_“I made it through the wilderness! Somehow I made it through! Didn't know how lost I was until I found you...”_

With killing accuracy, Octavian’s eyes whip to Leo’s over two tables and an obscene amount of staring faces. Because those faces? Are staring at them. Both of them. Leo and Octavian. Octavian and Leo. While the Howler, bastardizing Leo’s voice, belts out Madonna’s “Like A Virgin.” To Octavian.

Octavian’s face flushes like a pimple on the verge of popping while Leo waits for spontaneous wizard combustion to come and take him away from this moment in a fiery ball of death. Or a dragon. A dragon would work.

The Howler feels none of his pain. None.

_“Yeah, you made me feel... Shiny and new! Like a virgin, touched for the very first time!”_

He can see professors standing on the edge of his vision while Jason claps a hand on his shoulder, but Leo can’t bring himself to look at the disapproving mom face one more time. He’s still trapped, horrified, with his eyes locked to Octavian’s. So much for voice distorting a Howler. So much for, oh, living out the rest of his normalfolk wizard life without alienating himself from his peers.

People slap his back at the breakfast table while the crowd around Octavian laughs, but Octavian stares at him for every abysmal second of that song - until the last lingering note before the Howler inspires Leo’s envy; it incinerates into nothing, finished.

Yeah, he wishes he could pull that parlor trick, too.

Instead, he’s given two weeks of detention and people sniggering whenever they lay eyes on him. It wouldn’t be so bad if they were laughing at Octavian’s face, but nooo, suddenly every prissy wizard in the whole place knows Madonna. Figures.

* * *

“How much do you hate me?” Leo asks later, elbow-deep in a crusty cauldron. It reeks like cat pee and the residue sparks whenever he scrubs over it, so it’s been slow going.

Octavian, however, keeps ignoring him. One week must not be enough if he’s charging onward into another, especially when the alternative is actually contributing to cauldron cleaning.

“More than Jason, right?” A beat, and then a wet sponge smacks Leo’s face before falling to the floor with a wet smack. “Right. Gotta be more than Jason.” Leo nods to himself and dives back into scrubbing, wiping his cheek with the sleeve of his robe. He’s never been a big fan of uncomfortable silences, but he manages a minute, tops. At least a minute. “For the record, I was hoping to make it sound like Professor Lyceus. Since, y’know -”

Octavian’s cauldron flies for him, clanging off of Leo’s when Leo ducks behind it.

“Jeeze!” Peeking up over the soapy rim, Leo frowns at Octavian - Octavian, in all of his rabid animal glory. Of course, he dusts himself off and opens his mouth again. “Anyway, since I heard you’ve got a - “

“If you don’t _shut up_ I’ll gut you for my hieromancy project! I _loathe_ you, Valdez. Are you happy? I want to strangle you until that _obnoxious_ , pretty mouth of yours - “

“What.”

“Stops _moving_ , and then I want to drag your corpse to the top of the Astronomy Tower - “

“Um.”

“And throw you off of it!”

“Dude.”

Octavian’s teeth gnash. “ _What?_ ”

“Did you just say I have a pretty mouth?” Leo puts on a pretty grin for Octavian’s effort. “Is all of that some weirdo date plan you’ve had on your mind?”

“NO!” Octavian screams. “It’s pretty _obnoxious!_ ”

Professor D snorts in his sleep, feet propped up on a desk beside his empty flask of Firewhisky. It means there’s nothing to stop Octavian when he stomps to his feet and whips out his wand while Leo scrambles with his steel wool and disappearing soap, which helpfully disappeared for the occasion. Great. Where’d he stick his wand?

“Hang on, I’m not ready to duel - need the heart of the cards - “

Octavian tackles him, spilling over the cauldron like a hot mess. His wand jabs Leo in the face. Fortunately, his literal wand - though it’s still not doing any favors for his cheek meat. Leo takes a few blind swings while he flails backward onto the floor, but it’s all awkward - Octavian’s hissing or breathing like a creep into his hair, or maybe he’s kissing it? But his elbow is easy enough to interpret when it stabs Leo’s chest during some kind of flapping bird motion.

“Oof - quit - agh, you’re pointy! Too pointy!”

“Stop moving, fool!”

Leo laughs, but stops moving just long enough for Octavian to pull back and slap him. Repeatedly. It’s so Mandark that he laughs more, raising his hands to try and shield his face under the cage of all of those skinny-stick limbs. And just like a stick, the tips of Octavian’s fingers may as well be splinters or extra-sharp toothpicks, because he scratches like an angry cat.

What is his life, really?

* * *

Octavian hadn’t kissed him once over cauldron scrubbing. Or cauldron fighting. But even with red marks scratched up his hands, Leo recognizes the change when it sticks: Octavian never gives Jason his constipated face, anymore. It’s all for Leo, three times a day with every meal like clockwork - plus all of the bonus content of passing Octavian in the hall or sharing a classroom with him, god forbid. Glaring. Constantly.

Leo swears that Octavian even crossed the uncrossable line of glaring at him at the urinals once, but neither Piper nor Jason had believed that one. They would if they’d been there to feel their metaphorical-or-literal penis withering up under the attention, though. No one deserves to have their junk given the stink eye. Not even Octavian. The jerk.

It still feels like white-hot lasers are boring into the back of his head while Leo reassembles his ballpoint pen in lieu of finishing his homework, and that’s in the safety of the Puff common room. Like, really? If someone had told him that Octavian died for the sole purpose of glare-haunting him everywhere, Leo might’ve believed them.

When Jason slips in through the barrel-entryway, a waving cactus greets him before Leo glances up and waves.

“What’s with that face?” Jason asks, smiling like a saint to the cactus while the overly-friendly spider plant hanging from the ceiling tickles the top of his head. “Are you okay?”

Leo puts his face on pause and raises his eyebrows, instead. “My face? I was born with it, dude. Ain’t nothing doing for it.” He kicks out a chair for Jason anyway, frowning when his pen spring leaps from his hand. It may or may not have gained a little sentience from all of his ‘gadget charming’ experiments. Hard to say, but he leans down to try and catch it where it rolls around the floor while Jason sits.

“You looked...weird at me. Like you expected something worse.” Jason stares at him while he stops trying to catch his pen spring and just starts groping around on the floor like he’s Velma-ing. It’s the only way to escape whatever concerned face Jason might be making.

“Hm, yeah? Dunno what that’s about. I mean, I was thinking about how awful it’d be if Hedge wore spandex earlier, but yeah. That was earlier.” That darn spring. Oh man, he might be occupied for literal years.

Jason’s face finds him under the table and Leo smacks his head on the underside, wincing and groaning while the spring freakin’ leaps into Jason’s hand. Traitor. Really, Jason isn’t much better - reaching for him to pull him out some and check his head for bumps. Mr. Perfect Best Friend. Leo wants to sink into a hole.

“Is it Octavian?” Jason frowns like he might consider decking Octavian for bullying his brood, or whatever mother hen thoughts might be floating up in there. Did hens have broods? That didn’t sound right. Jason’s still frowning. Hm. “Did he jinx you?”

“Nooo...no, no dude. We’re cool. I’m cool. Stop - stop touching my head, sheesh.” Leo swats at Jason’s hand and receives a spring for his efforts. Mr. Perfect Best Friend, part deux. He can’t even sulk in peace - or fear for his head having two new holes in it. “We had a cat fight in detention last night but he fights like a sissy, it’s fine.” Not entirely true, considering Leo’s been on the receiving end of Octavian wanting to really fight, but he still has no idea what last night even was. He waves a hand. The spring springs free. Mother fucker.

“That’s not really...good,” Jason says, reappearing below the table to help. Again. “I know he’s uh...had his eye on you lately.”

“Oho? You jelly, Jason?” Leo smirks, though it fades when that conniving spring slips away from him again. “Did I steal your secret admirer?” He watches it fire off right for Jason’s hand. Seriously, even inanimate objects - or once-inanimate objects - preferred Jason. How unfair was that?

“You know about that?” Jason’s brows shoot up his forehead. Leo’s pretty sure his are doing the same thing.

“What.”

Jason frowns. “You didn’t.”

“What.”

“Nothing!”

Leo smacks his hand over Jason’s, catching the spring and staring like Jason might try to escape next. “No, no way! No. You’re serious. _Octavian?_ ”

“Don’t you breathe a word to anyone.” Grabbing his sleeve, Jason looks less like he’s trying to threaten and more like he’s horrifyingly embarrassed. Which...Leo can wrap his head around. Also in relation to Octavian, actually. “Swear, Leo. I wasn’t supposed to - it’ll be a mess if anyone -”

“Yeah, yeah. Lippers zippered, bro, but...c’mon.” Really. Can anyone blame him for smiling? Or snickering? No. Anyone would laugh, it’s a fact. This is juicy news, juicy enough to merit staying under the table with Jason. “You’ve gotta tell me if I’m keeping it a secret.”

Jason bites his lip near that cute little scar, and his face scrunches up like he’s debating it. Leo wills Jason on in his head - _do it, do it, do it, come ooooon_ \- and Jason cracks with a sheepish smile. “He, uh. Might’ve tried to kiss me once.”

Hooo boy, it’s a good thing no one else is haunting the common room, because Leo sputters out a laugh right in Jason’s face. Jason shakes his arm for the effort, reaching for stern and failing with red, red ears. “When?” Leo asks, eyes watering with the effort it takes to shut his mouth. His pretty mouth. Oh. His eyes widen. _Oh._ “Wait, did he - “ he snickers - “did he talk about how he wanted to murder you? Is that pillow talk?”

Jason socks him one on the arm, but it’s a weenie punch - all show, no blow. “No, god. I think that’s just you, if he did that. It was when I took the fall for Percy and got detention with him last year.” Pausing, Jason frowns like his conscience is passing over like a dark cloud. Leo tries to shoo it away by tugging on Jason’s arm. It’s enough. Sort of. “I said I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Jason says, all remorse like a puppy caught eating trash. “So seriously, _promise_ me that you won’t say anything. Especially to Octavian.”

“Not a word,” Leo says, as grave as one can pull off with streaming eyes.

* * *

Octavian never gives Jason his constipated face, anymore. It’s all for Leo, three times a day with every meal like clockwork - plus all of the bonus content of passing Octavian in the hall or sharing a classroom with him, god forbid. Glaring. Constantly.

Leo makes the effort to wink back everytime, smug with a Cheshire smile.


End file.
